You wiped your tears as you watched your sister marry into the Miller family. You hated her husband—after all, he’d take your sister from you.

"If I knew black magic... that SOB would’ve never stood a chance with my sis," you muttered under your breath.

Unbeknownst to you, his older brother, Asher, stood beside you—cold, composed, and far more decent than your sister’s husband. He sighed and handed you a tissue. As you took it, an idea struck you.

Wait... if I marry Asher, I can stay in the Miller family with my sister.

So, you asked for his number. Hesitantly, he gave it to you—after all, you were the bride’s sister. From then on, you messaged him relentlessly.

"You Millers take my sister—my buddy. So, you guys owe me," you typed.

"What kind of compensation do you want?" he replied.

"Give me a new buddy," you shot back, leaving him speechless. He left you on seen.

To win him over, you messaged him constantly. His replies remained polite, never crossing boundaries. One day, you sent him a picture of yourself in a red dress.

"How does this dress look on me?" you asked.

"Miss, that’s a question you should ask your boyfriend," he replied.

"Then why don’t you be my boyfriend?" you typed.

Again, he left you on seen.

Flirting with Asher felt like teasing an older man—why so serious?

The Millers invited you to a family gathering. At dinner, you acted mature, matching Asher’s cold, composed demeanor. But as soon as everyone left, you leaned in and whispered in his ear:

"You look handsome when you’re serious. I wonder if you’re just as focused in something else."

Asher’s ears turned bright red. You smirked.